


[C] Day of Rest

by OneofWebs



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Has a Vulva (Good Omens), Blow Jobs, Bottom Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley Has a Penis (Good Omens), Fantasizing, Hand Jobs, Intercrural Sex, Laughter During Sex, M/M, Nipple Play, Praise Kink, Top Crowley (Good Omens)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-01-31 11:42:46
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,066
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21445657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OneofWebs/pseuds/OneofWebs
Summary: It's one particularly lazy Sunday morning after Aziraphale and Crowley found themselves entirely not dead from Armageddon and the ensuing run from their respective superiors. There wasn't really anything better to do, then, but to spend the whole day wrapped up around each other.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 20
Kudos: 348
Collections: Ixnael’s Recommendations





	[C] Day of Rest

**Author's Note:**

  * For [adrezarach](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adrezarach/gifts).

> YES Im making a joke about Sunday NO i will take take criticism. Here's just a very fun pwp that contains no actual penetration. Whack how that be done, right. It's good, i promise. I only died twelve times by writing this, thank you for your concern.

Something about the way the sun shined through the window of bookshop felt a warm and pleasant reminder that things were done. Things were so done that, in fact, everything felt like a bout of settled dust. There was no need for hiding, anymore, because there weren’t any eyes pointed downward, upward, whatever-ward. It was just the bookshop, the Bentley, Aziraphale, and Crowley. The sun was a gentle reminder about it. About how peaceful things were, now. With it all over.

Aziraphale hadn’t taken long to settle into it. He’d even created this little space, this little nook above the shop where they could have their own time. Where the world was just a small bedroom with no more than a bed, a dresser, and a mirror. It was a small, cozy, comfortable little world where the sheets were silk, but the duvet was tartan, and between, it was Aziraphale who hadn’t woken up yet. He was, of course, facing away from the window. The sun was some gentle reminder, but it pricked at Crowley’s eyes and roused him.

_These_ were the mornings he loved, though. When he opened his eyes, and Aziraphale’s head was still tucked up under his neck, their legs twined together. They were both still naked, pressed up against each other like the very thought of ever leaving this bed was a horrid, terrible one, not to be considered. Crowley would coil himself all up and around Aziraphale’s body, if he could. Just to hold him. He tried, anyway, to think that way. There was another, pressing problem that was very much preventing the nice little thoughts of kisses and cuddles on a Sunday morning.

That was, the pressing need of his cock nestled right up in the juncture of Aziraphale’s thigh and pelvis. It was cruel, really, that Crowley could be so taken with the idea of just _holding_ Aziraphale when every other ounce of his body had something different in mind. It would be so easy to rouse Aziraphale awake again and climb on top of him, slip his cock right back into Aziraphale’s warm little cunt and fuck him through the morning sunlight. He’d still be loose and wet from the night before; Crowley was sure of it. They’d been up so late, wrapped up in one another.

Aziraphale had been insatiable the moment he realized they could do this freely. There were no constructs or expectations standing between him and night upon night of writhing under Crowley’s touch. Crowley had reveled in it, too. He hadn’t thought he would care about how they fell into bed together, just as long as they did, and they did it often. Now, Crowley couldn’t imagine doing anything other than fucking Aziraphale senseless, whenever he asked, however he asked. He wanted to _please_ Aziraphale in every way that he could.

Crowley hadn’t even he’d been rolling his hips, rutting against Aziraphale’s thigh, until he felt Aziraphale shift in his arms. In response, Crowley went deathly still where Aziraphale moved. He was already planning his lengthy apology—he hadn’t been thinking. He’d been too caught up in his own imagination to realize what he was doing. He’d do anything to make it up to Aziraphale. But then, Aziraphale was letting out a pleasant little hum.

“Don’t stop on my account, dear boy,” Aziraphale muttered. “I was rather enjoying that.”

Crowley had _not _planned what to say in response to that. He couldn’t even fathom how Aziraphale could enjoy having his thigh rutted against, but there he was: smiling and snuggling closer. He even dared to roll his hips.

“H-How are you feeling?” Crowley bit out, amid the stumbling of syllables and sounds.

“Pleasantly sore, I think, my dear,” Aziraphale responded. He hadn’t even opened his eyes, yet, still blissfully half asleep against the pillows. “Satisfied. I feel wonderful.”

“I’m glad to hear it.” Crowley cleared his throat. He dragged his fingers through Aziraphale’s hair and _pleaded_, internally, for his erection to go down. There was no reason for that. And still.

“Do you, perhaps, need a bit more?” Aziraphale sounded so lost in the groggy fog of sleep that Crowley’s heart cinched up. It was _cute_.

“N-No. I’m fine. I’ll be alright. Just give it some time.”

Aziraphale even deigned to laugh at Crowley. “Dear, I woke some odd time this morning to shift, and you were very much aroused. It’s nothing shameful, you know. It’s just how these corporations work.”

“I don’t want you thinking that you didn’t please me,” Crowley muttered. He would have buried his face in the pillow, if it were possible. The angle was wrong, and he had no choice but to stare at Aziraphale.

“No, no. I remember quite well what happened last night. I take this as somebody wants seconds.”

“Eighths,” Crowley corrected.

“Yes, well. I wouldn’t be entirely opposed, you know. If you, well,” Aziraphale paused to run his hand down Crowley’s chest, his eyes finally open, “needed me.”

Crowley very _much_ needed Aziraphale. He wanted to touch him, to fuck him, to spend hours down between his thighs with his tongue buried up inside of his cunt. Crowley wasn’t particularly picky, as long as he could have his hands on Aziraphale. In Aziraphale, preferably. And there was Aziraphale, offering himself to Crowley like something to be used. Oh, he was so perfect. So much of everything. Crowley leaned into Aziraphale’s neck and kissed him, there, taking in the deepest scent of him.

“You’re so beautiful,” Crowley muttered. “You’re everything, do you know that?” Crowley’s hand snaked down between them, pressing gentle fingers over Aziraphale’s mound, down to where there was already a slickness growing between his lips. Just the first touch of Crowley’s finger against Aziraphale’s clit had him hissing, suddenly.

“Oh, no. Maybe—maybe, not so much,” Aziraphale whispered. “I don’t—I don’t think I could handle another round.”

Crowley’s hand was gone instantly. “I’m sorry, angel. I didn’t—”

“You didn’t know,” Aziraphale soothed. “I didn’t either. I think I would have very much enjoyed being ravished again, until that. Oh, Heavens, I am still quite sensitive.”

“We don’t have to do anything, you know.”

“No, no. I want to. Crowley, perhaps, maybe, just maybe, you’d be alright with, well, ah,” Aziraphale shifted slightly. “Using me? Maybe we can’t make love, but I’m sure there’s so many other things my clever demon can come up with.” Aziraphale’s hands were cupped around Crowley’s jaw with his compliment, and Crowley preened.

“You’re an absolute delight, angel,” Crowley breathed. “There’s nothing I don’t want to do to you, do you know that?”

Aziraphale rolled flat onto his back when Crowley crawled over top of him, sucking in deep breath. Crowley straddled his waist, already pressing his cock down into Aziraphale’s soft, rolling flesh. When Crowley rolled his hips, Aziraphale shuddered. Crowley was already dripping. He must have been aching through the morning, just waiting to be able to find his release. He was so beautifully patient, and Aziraphale told him so. It made his hips stutter, his breath catch.

“Oh, I love the sight of you,” Aziraphale breathed. He even let out a shuddering gasp when Crowley slipped farther up his body. “You’re always so good for me,” he continued. “You always do what I need, Crowley. You know I just want to give back.”

“You do, angel, you do. In all the best ways. Oh, you’re _perfect_—” Crowley bit down into his bottom lip.

Crowley molded his hands over the swell of Aziraphale’s chest, one fat little pec in each hand so he could squeeze and roll. Aziraphale always responded so beautifully, like this, when Crowley paid extra attention to his chest. He shifted his hands just slight enough that he could thumb over Aziraphale’s nipples. Then, Crowley pushed fat of him together, around his cock, and continued to roll his hips. Aziraphale’s jaw dropped open in a sudden gasp, then. Crowley had a nice, warm place to fuck his cock, but he hadn’t just thought about himself. He kept a special attention on Aziraphale’s nipples, flicking them and rolling his thumb over them.

“Oh, you,” Aziraphale gasped. “Always so attentive, so _considerate_. Oh,” Aziraphale’s back arched when Crowley’s fingers dug into the side of his breasts. “_Creative_, clever, oh,” Aziraphale breathed.

He almost wished he wasn’t so sensitive; Crowley could be making that same, hip rolling movement _inside_ of him. Crowley always knew just how to work his hips, just where to hit. Aziraphale lost count of the times he’d finished the night before; Crowley always pleased him, always took such good care of him. Even now, with Crowley’s cock nestled between his tits, Crowley was paying attention to him, watching every movement he made with hungry eyes. Half of Crowley always wanted to devour more, and the other half wanted to _give_.

Crowley squeezed Aziraphale’s tits in his hands. Every brush of his thumbs over Aziraphale’s nipples had Aziraphale keening, moaning something soft and desperate. The drag of Crowley’s prick was a separate touch, all together, and with a subtle shift, his cockhead bumping into Aziraphale’s chin. Oh, that gave him an idea.

Aziraphale angled his head down and parted his lips. On Crowley’s next roll forward, Aziraphale had his lips around the head of Crowley’s cock, just long enough to brush his tongue into it and listen to Crowley’s sudden groan. His hips stuttered just a bit, but he fucked forward _faster_ now, now that there was some incentive to it. Aziraphale’s waiting, open mouth.

“Look at you,” Crowley cried, breathless. “You’re so beautiful, so perfect. So _needy. _Fuck, angel. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Aziraphale shivered in response and let his eyes close. Oh, he could get off on Crowley’s words alone. He could listen to Crowley praise him for the rest of their morning and find himself just as satiated as if Crowley had spent the time fucking him wildly. It always had Aziraphale’s chest aching with want, _desire_, to know that he made Crowley feel like this. He wished he could tell Crowley back, but the promise of a cock in his mouth, even for seconds, was enough to have him keep his jaw dropped.

Instead, Aziraphale reached around to run his hands up Crowley’s thighs. His touch was warm, and it radiated with that _love_ Aziraphale was always talking about. Crowley could feel the pricks of it as Aziraphale’s hands came to rest over his hips to pull him just a little closer. Crowley’s whole body went warm, then; Aziraphale didn’t have to _say_ what he thought about Crowley, because Crowley could feel it, right then. It brought him another rush of pleasure, until he was shuddering with it.

“Aziraphale,” Crowley moaned. He came, after that, in a valiant and rushed spurt of seed against Aziraphale’s chest, his neck. The mess was beautiful, priceless, and the feeling of it at Aziraphale shivering in his own right. Crowley had climaxed from _that_. From Aziraphale’s touch on his hips. If that wasn’t enough to make him feel a bit something, something himself—Aziraphale would have thought himself a fool.

“You’re always so lovely when you finish,” Aziraphale whispered.

He reached up for Crowley, and Crowley fell down into his hands. Aziraphale ran his fingers over Crowley’s face, back through his hair, and moaned when Crowley kissed him. It was a slow, wonderful, and lovely kiss. Crowley’s hips were still rolling, rutting his still-hard cock into Aziraphale’s skin. Crowley’s hands were in Aziraphale’s hair, instead, and that spoke louder volumes. It wasn’t even about the pleasure, not really. It was just about Crowley being able to touch, to be this close. Aziraphale would have never pushed him away.

Crowley kissed him a hard moment longer, his tongue a gentle presence in Aziraphale’s mouth. Their tongues just touched, rubbed together. Aziraphale moaned through it, making sure to kiss back with everything he had. Having Crowley so close like this was everything he wanted; he didn’t want it to end. He hoped, he secretly hoped, that Crowley wasn’t done, just yet. Aziraphale felt a bit greedy, but he wanted it. He needed it, just as badly as Crowley did, apparently.

“Oh,” Aziraphale whispered, “please don’t be finished. I need to feel more of you, please, Crowley.”

Crowley let out the smallest of laughs. He brushed back through Aziraphale’s hair, a look of awe painted over his face. “Oh, Aziraphale. I’ve barely even started. I intend to see you to orgasm, too.”

“My. That would be—how do you intend to do that, exactly?” Aziraphale laughed.

“You said so yourself. I’m a clever demon.”

Crowley leaned down to hum into Aziraphale’s neck, to kiss purple marks into his skin and down his chest. He didn’t stop until he was down between Aziraphale’s thighs, his hands running up and down the pale expanse of them. Aziraphale looked a bit nervous, like he truly thought Crowley would intend to abuse his sensitivity. It made sense; they hadn’t been sleeping together long. Aziraphale could trust Crowley to the moon and back and still not be entirely sure if Crowley knew when a line was drawn in such a different scenario.

Just like he always did, Crowley surprised Aziraphale. When he leaned down, it was Aziraphale’s thighs that he played his lips over, his tongue. He’d spread Aziraphale out wide and then skipped the main course with an impressive amount of restraint. Aziraphale couldn’t contain the moan from his throat. Every kiss was truly a demon’s, a fire of passion sent straight through Aziraphale’s body.

“Oh, Crowley. Oh, Crowley, you wily thing. How can that—how can this feel so good, oh—” Aziraphale gasped, rolling his hips, even. Crowley ignored him in turn for biting down a gentle nip on his thigh, and Aziraphale thought he might spasm.

It was like Crowley’s touch had that same heat in it, that same love. Oh, it had to. Aziraphale was particularly good at finding love, and it was right there, in Crowley’s touch. It was in the drag of his tongue over the constellation of marks he’d made. It was in his lips when he kissed, when he sucked. He left Aziraphale covered in little marks that just seemed to throb in that same feeling. Every word that left Aziraphale’s mouth, every babbling bit of praise, every moan—all of it just egged Crowley further. Pushed him on. Encouraged him to do more.

“You’re stunning,” Crowley told him, his voice nothing more than a morning whisper. “You look so good like this, you know. I could stare at you for days, years, if I could.”

“You _can_, Crowley, you can. You’ve always been so, so determined to get what you want. I’m _yours_, my dear. Please, you must know that.”

Crowley hummed and, slinking up Aziraphale’s body, pressed a kiss into his cheek. “I love you,” he whispered.

Aziraphale’s response was a stuttering moan, a gasp, a full-body shudder.

“If you don’t like something, you tell me. I won’t do a thing you don’t like.”

With his final whisper, Crowley pulled away. He took both of Aziraphale’s legs in his grasp and shifted them, moved them, until he had them pressed together and resting on his shoulder. Aziraphale couldn’t contain the moan he let out, when all the pieces fell together. His thighs were squeezed tightly around the thick of Crowley’s leaking cock, which was nestled down against his mound. He was convinced, then, that there was nothing Crowley could do that he wouldn’t like.

“Oh,” Aziraphale gasped. “Always so clever. So creative. Please, dear, please—show me what you mean to do. I—I want to feel you.”

Crowley responded with a roll of his hips. Aziraphale’s back arched and he groaned. That was such a feeling. So much warmth spread up inside of him, all at once. Crowley’s hips moved against him, quickly, fast—searching out his own pleasure. He slapped into Aziraphale’s rear with every fuck forward, and all Aziraphale could do was squeeze his thighs together as tightly as he could. He couldn’t see over the roundness of his belly, and once, that might have bothered him. Now, it surely didn’t.

He could feel Crowley’s cockhead rutting into the underside of his belly on every thrust. It was so hard to feel bad about his body when it was _his body_ that had Crowley so hard, that had Crowley sweating and panting. Crowley was desperate for his release, and it was all Aziraphale’s doing. All Aziraphale’s fault. He couldn’t help the proud little wiggle he let on, moving just enough to wrench another groan out of Crowley.

“You’re a menace,” Crowley gasped. “Such a perfect piece of trouble. I can’t—I can’t have enough of you, can I?”

“I should hope not,” Aziraphale replied.

Crowley’s thrusts continued, and Aziraphale could do nothing but ground himself in the sheets as he took it. The underside of Crowley’s cock rubbed into the top skin of his mound, and he’d never expected that to feel so good. Crowley hadn’t touched his cunt since he’d asked him not to, and _still_, he could feel the slickness growing, there. Every drag of Crowley’s cock just seemed to shift and pull at the entirety of his sex, and the resounding vibration felt so good. It was so powerful.

Just a hint, just a _suggestion_ of what Crowley might have been able to do to Aziraphale. Still, it was enough. Aziraphale was crying out, now, with every thrust that Crowley gave him. Every tap of Crowley’s cockhead into his stomach. Every drag of Crowley’s prick through his thighs. It was like he was moving inside of him, just so much subtler. Aziraphale was seeing stars, perfection, _love_. He didn’t quite know how to handle the sudden mountain of feeling, emotion, sensation.

All he could do was gasp out with his pleasure. All of it crested, all at once, and Aziraphale _came_. He climaxed. He finished. He gushed out in a sudden rush of slick, and oh, he cried with it. The sensation of his orgasm alone was enough to leave him tired, breathless. It wasn’t the only feeling. Crowley was still fucking through his thighs, groaning in his own search for pleasure. He was ready to paint the underside of Aziraphale’s stomach with his seed, but Aziraphale had something else in mind.

“Crowley, Crowley,” he gasped out. “Oh, dear, you’re so wonderful. I never _imagined_ you could make me do that. Oh, I can’t—I need you. I need you, please. Let me put my mouth on you!”

Crowley’s hips stuttered, then. “_Fuck,_ Aziraphale, you can’t just say that. Fuck, I—”

“I want you to come down my throat. Crowley, please. I know you want that. I know you want to please me—you’re always so good, like that. So good to me. I love you; I love you so much. Please, let me suck on your cock.”

Crowley broke off into a litany of curses and foul language as he set Aziraphale’s thighs back down on the bed. Aziraphale pushed himself up, and they situated as quickly as they could. Aziraphale was on his knees, on the floor, in a second. Not exactly on the floor, because Crowley had thought to miracle a quick cushioning for him, to which Aziraphale breathed out his praises and thanks into Crowley’s thigh. Crowley was sitting on the edge of the bed, his knees on either side of Aziraphale.

Aziraphale was quick to get as close as he could and wrap his hand around the base of Crowley’s cock. He jerked it, once, twice, before he leaned in and pressed his lips to it. Crowley’s cock was pulsing, _aching_ for release, now. Aziraphale had to make up for the delay. Keeping Crowley from his orgasm wasn’t a very nice or proper thing to do. Aziraphale made sure to get to work, quickly, dragging his lips up the underside of Crowley’s prick.

Crowley put his hand through Aziraphale’s hair, shuddering with his appreciation. Aziraphale’s lips alone would be enough to drag him over the edge, coupled with that coy little look of innocence on his face. Aziraphale’s eyes were big and blue and pretty, looking up at Crowley as he kissed along his cock. It wasn’t entirely fair, the way that he looked, the way that he touched. When Aziraphale’s eyes closed, it was because he was kissing Crowley’s cockhead like he might kiss Crowley—and Crowley’s hips bucked in anticipation.

“You look so good like this,” Crowley said. “Kneeling down between my thighs, lips on my cock. You’re so eager to please, aren’t you? You want to make me feel good?”

Aziraphale moaned into Crowley’s skin, his hand squeezing around the base of his prick.

“You’ve got no right to be this good, fuck,” Crowley cursed. “It’s all for me, isn’t it? Your mouth, your body—you’re all for me.”

Aziraphale groaned, and with that, he sunk down over Crowley’s cock. Just the head, at first, making sure to press his tongue into the slit of it. Crowley was so good, in return, keeping his hips still. He kept a firm hand in Aziraphale’s hair, but he didn’t pull, he didn’t tug, he didn’t push. He waited, watching, _feeling_, as Aziraphale took more of him into his mouth. The slow sink down, the lave of his tongue into the vein along his underside. Everything about it was more than Crowley could have imagined.

Very little gasp, moan, that Aziraphale made went straight through Crowley’s cock. It seemed to twitch in Aziraphale’s mouth, to pulse against his tongue. Aziraphale had to moan; it felt so good to have Crowley inside him, like this. Even if it wasn’t his cunt, it was still wet and warm. Perfect. Wonderful. Aziraphale sunk even lower, until his lips met his fist where he still had it gripped around Crowley’s cock. Aziraphale held himself there for a moment, feeling the way Crowley just seemed to grow in his throat. The bastard was probably doing it on purpose, to give Aziraphale a proper fill. Aziraphale would give him a proper thanks.

When Aziraphale pulled back, his fist followed, and he set a fast rhythm then. Bobbing his head, moving and twisting his fist. Crowley’s cock leaked in appreciation, and Crowley groaned in response. He leaned back onto his hands; his jaw open with moans. His cries were more than praise enough, telling Aziraphale how good he was doing, to keep up his rhythm. He did. He took Crowley as deep down as he could go, and to make matters more intense, he stared directly at Crowley when he swallowed around the head of his cock.

“Oh, fuck,” Crowley groaned. “Angel, you’re so good. So perfect for me.” He took a tighter grip on Aziraphale’s hair.

Aziraphale hollowed out his cheeks and sucked. He tongued through Crowley’s slit, along the seam of his head, the underside of his cock. Anywhere that Aziraphale could reach, his tongue was there. When he wasn’t licking, he was taking Crowley all the way into the back of his throat and swallowing around him until Crowley moaned. His fist was working too, quickly. Always jerking or twisting or pumping, always over the expanse of skin he couldn’t reach.

His free hand smoothed its way up Crowley’s thigh until he could run his fingers over Crowley’s bollocks. Crowley responded well to that, breathing hard through his nose and humming with praise. Aziraphale felt the weight of them in his hand, rolling them together. Crowley’s hips bucked, then, rolling into Aziraphale’s grasp, his mouth. Anywhere that he could find more _touch_, he needed it.

“You like this, don’t you? Never thought I’d find an angel who liked to suck cock, but fuck, if you’re not a God send.”

Aziraphale nearly choked, with that, but he continued. He never took his eyes of Crowley, never stopped his movements. Crowley’s breath was getting heavier, his moans ever louder. His hips stuttered when they rolled, and he was trying so hard to keep them still. Aziraphale even felt a twinge of pride, knowing that Crowley was struggling to maintain control of himself.

“You’re so good at this, Aziraphale. So, fucking perfect, it’s unreal. I could stay like this all day, with you on my cock.”

Oh, Crowley would like to keep him there all day, if he could. Just to have Aziraphale’s mouth around him would be enough; they could stay like that for hours while Crowley found something to keep him busy. Aziraphale would probably go for it, if he asked, but that was for another time. Crowley’s entire body was thrumming with pleasure, and he knew he wouldn’t last long. There was no sense in dreaming about a fantasy when Aziraphale was right there, kneeling before him, sucking his cock like he was born to do it.

It didn’t take long, after that, for Crowley to finally gasp out and finish. His hips bucked once, twice, and when his cock hit the back of Aziraphale’s throat, he came in a sudden flash of white. Oh, he saw stars. He saw Aziraphale. The mess he’d made of him. How, somehow, there were still those tired eyes on him. Aziraphale looked beautiful like that. Crowley leaned down over him, cupping Aziraphale’s jaw in his hands after he’d pulled away, wiped his mouth off.

“Are you alright, angel? Does your jaw hurt?” Crowley asked.

“I’m fine, dear. I think I’d like to wash up, though. I’m sure you understand.”

“Nonsense. One frivolous miracle, coming right up.” Crowley pulled down a snap in the air, and suddenly, Aziraphale was clean.

“Oh, honestly, Crowley,” Aziraphale huffed. “Can’t we just bathe like normal people?”

Crowley hoisted Aziraphale back up into bed, scooting back to his own side so they could lay back down. Despite Aziraphale’s protesting about how _inhuman_ it was, he didn’t seem to reject the tugging. He even laid downright next to Crowley, keeping enough distance that they could still look at each other. Crowley pulled up the blanket, the black silk sheet and the tartan duvet, and covered them both to their shoulders. Underneath the blankets, their world got even smaller, and Crowley used it as an excuse to run his hands over Aziraphale’s arms.

“We can bathe after a quick rest. We’ve earned that, haven’t we? The morning is just beginning, I think. I don’t want to see it end.”

“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled. He put his hand on Crowley’s face, rubbing his thumb over Crowley’s cheek, over the branded snake on his face. “If you want to stay in bed all day, all you have to do is ask. I’d never deny you a thing, my dear.”

Crowley gave a tentative smile. He pulled Aziraphale into a hug, a tight one, where their legs entwined together. He danced his fingers down Aziraphale’s spine, over the rolls of his skin. He just wanted to touch. He _needed_ that touch. It always felt so good to have the warmth of skin, and Aziraphale’s skin felt so much more like love than warmth. Just having Aziraphale in his arms had always felt like a dream, but having Aziraphale naked, happy, and satisfied was even better.

“Did I make you happy, Crowley?” Aziraphale asked, then. His face had been buried in Crowley’s chest until that moment.

“Wonderfully,” Crowley responded. “You were perfect. You were beautiful. You were more than I could have—”

“Oh, stop,” Aziraphale gasped. “You’ll make me want to throw myself at you. Oh, I want to, but I couldn’t.”

Crowley laughed. “You’re an insatiable, perfect little shite, is what you are.”

“I love you, too, Crowley.”

They settled against each other, then, in the comforting warmth of their little cocoon. It was Sunday, so it didn’t matter if they got up and did anything. The bookshop was closed on Sundays, and really, Aziraphale would have closed it for a holiday if the alternative was spending his morning wrapped up in Crowley’s heat. He rather did think it might be fun to do this more often—all the time, if possible. If Crowley wanted to join him in the shop, as a snake, he might be able to spend his whole day wrapped up in him. It would be such a beautiful feeling.

It left Aziraphale feeling warm, radiating that warmth, while they both drifted back off to sleep. Where they’d fucked half the morning away, they slept through the rest of it. Each, with pleasant dreams and pleasant feelings to keep them company. It was that sort of dead sleep where they were more concerned with staying close to one another than the usual, free movement that could occur in the beginning moments of rest. They’d fallen asleep with their arms around each other, legs entwined, and that was entirely how they intended to wake up.

When they did wake up, eventually, sometime after noon had passed. The first thing Crowley did was make good on his promise for a good and proper bath. Aziraphale hadn’t had a full-sized tub, or a bathroom at all, until Crowley waved his hands, and the world got a little bigger. The bathroom was a modest size, and the tub filled up the majority of it. Where the wood of the sink and cabinets was a fine oak color, to Aziraphale’s preferences, the bath was a sharp, black marble.

They’d settled into it, Aziraphale up in Crowley’s lap. Their hands were curious, roaming things, being as close as they were. It was all they seemed to care about; not too long ago, their lives had been nearly ended. Being free from that meant that they were _able_ to touch, so it would be all they do. Even if they sat in the tub all day, water pruning their skin, they’d still be touching. They’d still be pressed up close together.

When Crowley’s cock hardened between them, Aziraphale would take it in his hands and jerk Crowley to completion. There would be no mess, because neither of them wanted a mess, and they would spend the rest of their natural light getting wrinkly in the water. After, Crowley would carry Aziraphale back to bed and lay with him. If that was all they ever did on a Sunday, Aziraphale would call it a day well spent.

**Author's Note:**

> 𓆏 because I can 𓆏  
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